


Hook, Line, and Sinker

by not_quite_anonymous



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Break Up, Canon Compliant, Childhood Friends to Lovers to Friends, Fluff, Getting Together, Growing Up Together, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Timeskip, bokuaka makes a brief appearance, it's implied that Kenma is asexual, me projecting? more likely than you'd think, so does Hinata
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28987461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_quite_anonymous/pseuds/not_quite_anonymous
Summary: Kuroo and Kenma grew up, grew together... and maybe grew apart.//my version of Line Without a Hook but make it Kuroken
Relationships: Kozume Kenma & Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 18
Kudos: 32





	Hook, Line, and Sinker

**Author's Note:**

> hey! this took me three months to write it was an ordeal and a half... but hopefully it's worth it!  
> inspired by and lyrics from [Line Without a Hook](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8JW6qzPCkE8) by Ricky Montgomery

**I don't really give a damn about the way you touch me**

**When we're alone**

**You can hold my hand**

**If no one's home**

_ “Did you hear?”  _

_ “Hear what?” A murmured secret, a muffled gasp. Heads turn and some people snicker congratulations while others just look over curiously. It’s the first day of junior high, and everyone is buzzing about how apparently Saito and Fukuda started dating over the break; the first two in their grade to venture into this unknown territory.  _

_ Kenma idly presses buttons on his DS, wishing that everyone else would shut up so that he could focus on beating this level. Kuroo sits in front of him, waving at fellow classmates and occasionally bowing his head to teachers while they walk by the pair. _

_ “Do you think you’d want a girlfriend, Kenma?” Kuroo props his chin up on his hand. _

_ “No,” he replies simply. _

_ “Why not?” Kuroo doesn’t sound particularly surprised, just curious. _

_ “Why would I?” _

_ “Don’t you think it’d be nice to, like, be with someone?” _

_ Kenma tilts his head down so the strands of black hair fall over the sides of his face to hide the rising blush. The truth was that the thought had never really occurred to him before, and couldn’t really see himself as the dating type if he were honest. Too much effort. And besides, who could put up with him for that long anyway? He wasn’t scared of talking to girls, just didn’t like talking to people in general. Kenma was pretty sure that just might be a deal breaker. _

_ “Classes are starting soon,” he says instead of answering. _

_ “Are you shy? Is there a pretty girl you have your eyes on?” Kuroo reaches out to poke at Kenma’s arm, making his fingers slip off the circle pad just as he was about to get past the final obstacle.  _

_ “Hands off, Kuro!” _

_ “Sorry, sorry. I know you don’t like being touched.” Kuroo rubs at the back of his neck, but when Kenma doesn’t berate him further he sighs and stands up, brushing off his pants. “I guess I should get to my classroom then. See you after school?” _

_ “Mhm,” Kenma mumbles vaguely, still slightly miffed at having to restart the level. Maybe he’ll get to finish it by the end of the day. _

_ The whispering and pointing at the new and only couple dies down by the time lunch rolls around, and by the time the bell rings to signal the end of the school day, it’s old news. Kenma waits by the doors for a few minutes before he sees the familiar head of messy black hair (the first years get let out before the second years).  _

_ “Ready to go?” _

_ Thankfully they live close enough to the school that they can walk home, even if their parents insist that they stick together. Kenma likes these twenty to thirty minutes, sometimes filled with Kuroo chatting about his day or whatever volleyball match he watched on TV last night but sometimes filled with nothing but the quiet falling of shoes on pavement.  _

_ Kenma usually prefers the latter, but today it seems like Kuroo wants to talk, so Kenma pulls out his DS from his jacket pocket and switches it on. He chooses an easier level so that he can pay attention to what Kuroo is saying (still going on about Saito and Fukuda) as well as his game. However, this left him with no awareness of his surroundings, exemplified when he nearly walked face-first into a telephone pole. _

_ Kuroo grabs Kenma’s shoulder, drags him back a few steps, and plucks the game out of his hand. “Watch your step.”  _

_ He reaches for Kenma’s hand, easily sliding his fingers between his own, probably to keep him from trying to steal back his game. It’s a familiar feeling, bringing back memories of fingers tacky with melted popsicle juice and sweaty smiles; or frozen fingertips and shared mittens. But they’re not kids anymore, and the school is still in sight, and Kenma remembers the flurry of activity and gossip about Saito and Fukuda and he couldn’t stand to be in the centre of attention like that what would people think of him what would people think of them he can’t he can’t he can’tー _

__

_ Kenma pulls away.  _

_ He shoves his hand back into his pocket, resisting the urge to reach out and swipe his DS from Kuroo’s grip. He knows from experience that it won’t be easy. Sliding his gaze over though, he sees Kuroo’s downturned eyebrows and pursed lips; he’s looking at his open hand in confusion. _

_ Kenma feels a twinge of regret. “Not here, Kuro.” _

_ Kenma doesn’t like being touched. He turns down handshakes and high fives, he stands stiffly through suffocating hugs from elderly relatives, and he hates when people reach out and ruffle his hair. Maybe it’s the suddenness, or the invasion of personal space, or just the feeling of skin on skin contact, but all Kenma knows is that he despises it. _

_ But that afternoon before he parted ways with Kuroo, he looks around making sure the street is deserted, then reaches out and quickly squeezes his hand. It’s a brief touch, a barely there squeeze, then it’s gone. A small victory. But Kuroo smiles anyway. He’ll take what he can get. _

**Do you like it when I'm away?**

**If I went and hurt my body, baby**

**Would you love me the same?**

Kuroo closed the door behind him and took off his shoes, leaving them and his briefcase at the doorway. “Kenma, are you home?” 

Kuroo walked into the office where Kenma had his streaming set-up (three monitors, state-of-the-art sound system, light-up keyboard, the works) and quickly dropped a kiss onto the top of his head. Kenma flinched slightly, but he’s used to the motion after years of dating and Kuroo’s overly affectionate greetings.

“Welcome home.” Kenma peered up at Kuroo from between the stray pieces of hair that had fallen out of his bun.

“Did you miss me?” Kuroo shrugged off his suit jacket and slung it over the back of Kenma’s chair.

“Kuro, how many times have I told you your clothes do not belong in my office, go hang it up in the bedroom or something.”

“You say my clothes don’t belong here, but whose hoodie are you wearing?”

Glancing down, Kenma realized he was in fact wearing Kuroo’s hoodie, an old black one that had cat paw prints embroidered onto the sleeves. It was one of his favourites; just worn and oversized enough to be able to drape comfortably over his upper body. Kenma felt his face warm.

“Shut up, it’s just because you forgot to do the laundry before you left.”

“And you didn’t do it for an entire week?”

“What, did you expect me to?”

“Not particularly. I don’t mind seeing you in my sweaters anyway,” came the lilting reply as Kuroo took back his jacket and padded out of the room, throwing a lazy smirk over his shoulder. “I ordered some dinner, it should be here soon.”

“Not hungry.”

“Guess I’ll be enjoying this apple pie by myself then.”

“... Fine, I’m coming.”

By the time Kenma emerges from his office, Kuroo had already set the table with a few plates of takeout, including the promised apple pie. 

“Thanks, Kuro.” Kenma sits at one of the dining chairs, pulling his knee up so he can rest his chin on it and tucking his other leg under him. “It looks good.”

“Let me guess, you’ve been sustaining yourself on instant ramen and candy bars since I’ve been gone,” Kuroo drawled knowingly.

“No comment.” Sure, Kenma wasn’t the best at cooking or taking care of himself, but that’s why Kuroo was there, right? 

“Did you even miss me? Or notice that I was gone? Or am I just a walking, talking food dispenser to you?” Kuroo teased.

Kenma hummed noncommittally and took a bite of his food. “Maybe.”

Kuroo stopped chewing, swallowed, and spoke. “Oh come on now, I know you like your alone time but you didn’t even miss me the tiniest bit?”

Kenma sighed irritably. He’d become accustomed to the silence of the apartment for so long and while he loved Kuroo, it had been a long day and he really just wanted to eat his dinner and not get barraged with questions. “I don’t know Kuro, I was busy this week. I had a billion meetings since we decided to sponsor Shouyou and you know that I hate meetings. Plus I had to keep up my streaming schedule.”

“Right, like you had to this afternoon. So busy that you couldn’t even pick up your boyfriend from the airport? I had to ask Bo to skip practice to come drive me, and he’s a professional volleyball player.” Kuroo’s voice was still level, but tinged with bitterness.

“I told you days ago that I wouldn’t be able to!” Kenma defended, “I was invited to a collab stream; and you told me that it was fine and that you couldn’t wait to hang out with Bokuto!”

“Yeah, well obviously I was lying. I love Bo, but you’re my boyfriend, Kenma. Of course I wanted you there to welcome me home after I came back from an exhausting week-long business trip. Would you have even noticed or cared if I’d gotten in a car accident or something? Or do your YouTube videos matter more?”

“Exhausting business trip? Sounded more like a vacation to me,” Kenma muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. 

A thick layer of silence stifled the air between them, leaving both of them unable or unwilling to break the tension. Kenma kept his eyes cast downwards and picked at his food, picking up bits of noodles with his chopsticks then putting them back down. 

“Well,” Kuroo finally sneered, “At least I have a real job.” 

He stood up abruptly, pushing his chair back and leaving his plate of food unfinished on the table. As soon as he left, Kuroo instantly regretted his words. He didn’t mean what he said; he knew that Kenma worked hard even if he tended to procrastinate and do things the lazy way. Still, Kenma had built up his company and reputation as Kodzuken from the ground up, and it was as real a job as Kuroo’s own.

Without realizing it, his body had unconsciously taken him to the place that he felt the happiest and most comfortable: his and Kenma’s shared bedroom. But looking around and seeing reminders of Kenma everywhere (crumpled wrappers, scraps of paper with important dates or notes written on them, a few pairs of socks thrown on the floor) just made him feel worse.

They had never really fought before. Kuroo knew that he could be provoking, which was a valuable skill on the volleyball court but maybe not so much with his boyfriend. The truth was that his business trip was shit, and he had almost missed his flight because he forgot to set an alarm, and he left his earbuds in his luggage so he had to listen to a crying baby for the entire duration of his six-hour flight, and when he got back to Tokyo he had to immediately deal with a bone-crushing hug and forty-five minutes of incessant chatter from Bokuto when all he really wanted to do was eat a quiet dinner and maybe watch a show, sprawled on the couch with his head in Kenma’s lap. 

In short, he had missed Kenma an unbearable amount during his trip and it hurt when he had returned home and it seemed like Kenma had been completely unfazed, maybe even annoyed at the fact that Kuroo had come home. Kuroo knew Kenma wasn’t a social person and that he needed time to himself to recharge and recuperate, but he had always prided himself on being the only person who Kenma could open up to, the only person who could reliably get past the wall that Kenma had built around himself. 

Growing up and spending so much time together, hell, dating for nearly five years, meant that he knew Kenma. Or at least he thought he did.

Kenma, still in the dining room, tucked his knees up to his chest and stared glassy-eyed at the uneaten apple pie until it grew cold.

**I can feel all my bones coming back**

**And I'm craving motion**

**Mama never really learned how to live by herself**

_ It’s much too quiet in the Kuroo household, and Kuroo can’t sleep. He lies in bed, tracing over the long, thin crack in his ceiling with his eyes over and over again. His hands itch to press the two pillows to either side of his face, but he scolds himself, saying that it’s unnecessary now. _

_ He should be happy, right? He should be grateful for the silence, for the still air. But it feels strange, almost wrong to lie in the darkness without hearing the rising voices, the shattering glasses, sharp shards and sharper words being flung across the living room, barely muffled by the thin drywall of his room.  _

_ He can’t remember a time when his parents didn’t fight, when nights weren’t filled with screaming matches and breakfasts weren’t tense affairs where they pretended that nothing happened. He’d grown accustomed to it of course; he coped with the loud noises by covering his ears with two pillows pressed against the sides of his head (though more often than not it only ended up dulling the sounds and not muting it entirely; he could still make out the words if he tried) or playing video games on the phone his dad had given to him at far too young an age to appease him.  _

_ Kuroo had gotten used to it. He’d learned to raise himself, to scramble eggs (after crushing half a dozen between his clumsy seven-year-old fingers) and pack his bento (messily wrapped sushi if it was a good day and convenience store snacks if it wasn’t). Volleyball had become his escape and his team his second family, his way to stay out of the house and the broken “family” within. He always slept well at training camps because while everyone else complained about the noise, Kuroo found it blissfully peaceful. _

_ And of course, there was Kenma. Kenma, who had just seemed to know everything without Kuroo even having to explain. Kenma, who could tell how badly Kuroo had slept just by how messy his bed head was. Kenma, who was unjudging and impartial and always just what Kuroo needed.  _

_ Kuroo’s parents got a divorce. Kuroo saw it coming. He’d been relieved and grateful at first, helping his dad pack his things and picking out furniture for the spare room that he’d have at his dad’s new house. When the moving van had finally pulled out of the driveway, the emptiness of the house reflected how light Kuroo had felt inside, as if someone had emptied out a backpack that he didn’t even realize he was carrying. _

_ But now, mere hours later, the silence which had been so liberating and relieving before was suffocating, pushing in on Kuroo from all sides. All he could hear was the quick gasps of his breath and the blood pounding in his head and the rustle of his sheets as he grasped them between his fingers. Maybe he had been too spineless in just accepting it, maybe if he’d tried a bit harder he could have salvaged his parents’ relationship and been used to this kind of silence instead of the feeling of dreadful anticipation that trickled down his spine.  _

_ He turned over in bed, minutes ticking by much more regularly than the uneven beating of his heart. It was too quiet, the house was too empty, everything was changing and Kuroo tried to hold on but it was like water slipping through his fingers. He needed to move, to leave, to go somewhere else. He craved comfort, stability, familiarity. But where…? _

_ Of course. Kenma. _

_ Kuroo thanked whatever gods there were for the thousandth time that he and Kenma were next-door neighbours. The twenty-six steps between their houses were well-traversed, and Kuroo found himself standing at Kenma’s front door before he knew it. Sneaking out was the easy part, but now that he was here, he started to second guess himself. It was the middle of the night, Kenma was probably asleep, and it would be rude to just go in (even though their parents usually had an open-door policy), right?  _

_ Although it was summer, the cold started to seep in through his thin t-shirt and pyjama pants. Just as he convinced himself that he was being ridiculous and turned to do the walk of shame back to his house, he heard a soft click.  _

_ “Come in, it’s cold.” Kenma stood behind the now-open door, dark circles under his eyes. _

_ “How…?” Kuroo didn’t even know how to finish his own question.  _

_ Thankfully, he didn’t need to. “I was up playing this new game anyway, and saw you outside the door.” _

_ Taking that as explanation enough (Kuroo knew that Kenma would stay up until ungodly hours if a new game came out to make sure he played it all the way through before any spoilers started popping up on the internet), he gratefully stepped through the doorway. _

_ The interior of the house was as familiar as Kuroo’s own, so he had no trouble navigating it in the dark and making his way to Kenma’s bedroom. His Nintendo Switch was lying atop unmade sheets, the lamp on his nightstand casting a warm glow on his bed.  _

_ “Sorry for coming over so late, Iー” Kuroo began guiltily. _

_ “I know,” Kenma stated, settling back into bed. He picked up the Switch and curled himself up like a cat, but deliberately left a space for Kuroo to settle into where he could comfortably lean against the headboard and watch Kenma’s game over his shoulder. _

_ They didn’t need to talk after that. The long-sleeved shirt Kenma was wearing was so oversized that the sleeves normally slipped past his fingertips, but he rolled them back to his wrists to properly grasp the game controller. Kuroo leaned his head against the headboard and pulled his legs in, curving himself in behind Kenma so that the two of them were lying like a pair of open parentheses. He could feel himself relaxing, tension slowly being let go from his muscles.  _

_ He watched Kenma’s on-screen avatar jump and weave past obstacles, hearing the steady clicking of buttons and quiet sighs of frustration when Kenma missed a power-up or victorious huffs when he cleared a level. Kuroo recognized the game, it was one that he had bought Kenma a few years ago that had quickly become one of his favourites. Wait a second, something was off. Didn’t Kenma say that he was playing a new game? Why would he be up so late playing a game that he’d already beaten before? _

_ Kuroo’s gaze wandered off the game and traced over Kenma’s jawline, the delicate scrunch of his nose, the newly-dyed hair (Kenma had showed up to school one day with blond hair and Kuroo had been completely shocked, but he really did like it) tucked behind his ear, still pondering his question. _

_ Realizing that he’d been looking for too long, he tore his gaze away, cheeks warming slightly. Peering out the window, Kuroo saw a clear view of the driveway and some of the sidewalk, but not a clear view of the front door, meaning that Kenma either lied earlier or was looking out for him since he had left his house. Odd. _

_ Kuroo shook his head to clear his thoughts. There was no way that was deliberate, he was just overthinking. Kenma would have said something about waiting for him, so it was probably only a coincidence that it seemed like it.  _

_ Satisfied, Kuroo relaxed again, allowing the sounds of soft breathing and quiet video game music lull him into a hazy stupor. Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep. _

_ Kenma heard Kuroo’s breathing slow and even out until it was deep and steady, a sign that he was actually asleep. Finishing off his level and saving the game (a force of pure habit rather than necessity since he had already beaten it so many times), Kenma placed his Switch delicately on his nightstand. He might have continued playing, but it was really getting late.  _

_ Kenma knew this of course; he had known that Kuroo’s father was moving out today and that Kuroo would likely be too anxious to sleep. He couldn’t count the number of nights after a particularly big or exhausting fight where Kuroo would sneak over and watch Kenma play video games until he fell asleep. He usually texted first, but Kenma also figured that he might be too frazzled to remember, so he had made a point to check out the window every few minutes. Kenma had picked out Kuroo’s favourite game, since he knew he wasn’t good with words and didn’t quite know how else to comfort him. But seeing Kuroo peacefully sleeping beside him somehow made it all worth it. _

_ Kenma was almost in high school now, he doubted that it would be appropriate for them to still be sharing a bed, but at this moment he didn’t particularly care. He debated whether it would be worth pulling out the futon, but he could feel his eyelids drooping and a yawn pulling at his throat. Giving up, he just curled into Kuroo’s side, subconsciously melting into his warmth. _

_ “Good night, Kuro” _

**It's a curse**

**And it's growing**

**You're a pond and I'm an ocean**

Kuroo woke up, groggily opening his eyes and squinting to adjust to the brightness. He only vaguely registered that the bedroom lights were on and something hard and metallic was digging into his back. 

Groaning, he instinctively reached his arm out for Kenma, only to find empty sheets. At that, his eyes shot open and he blinked a few times to clear his sleepy haze. Kenma  _ never _ woke up before him. Normally Kuroo would have to physically drag Kenma out of bed in the mornings, or set several alarms for him and check in by text if Kuroo had to leave early for work. 

Kuroo sat up, brain still scrambling to put together his situation, wondering if maybe he’d just gone to the bathroom or something. He craned his neck to look into their ensuite, but the door was open and it was empty. There was no smell of coffee in the air either, so Kenma  _ definitely _ wasn’t awake yet.

Stretching his back out (he should really stop sleeping in the most convoluted positions), Kuroo realized that he was sprawled atop the sheets and that the uncomfortable thing digging into his side was his belt. What? Why was he still wearing his work clothes?

Suddenly everything came back to him, as if a lens on a camera had been snapped into place. He groaned and buried his head in his hands. A delayed flight, some unfinished takeout, and the bitter words exchanged between him and Kenma. That had been a full week ago.

That night, Kuroo had gone to bed and woken up with Kenma by his side as usual, albeit further than usual. He had wanted to wake him up, but decided that that would only place him even further on Kenma’s bad side. Instead, he had gotten up and cleared the table of the cold food still sitting out, then left for work. When he got home, Kenma had been streaming (Kuroo heard him yelling something about vents from beyond the closed office door), which meant another cold dinner and early bedtime for Kuroo. 

Since then, he had tried to apologize (after finally getting over his stubborn pride), but Kenma was always busy; back-to-back meetings the entire afternoon and streams every other day. At first, Kuroo had just been confused. Kenma was never the most affectionate or outgoing person, but he had gotten used to the small symbols of love; the cups of coffee left on countertops or tight, silent hugs after he came home from work. 

Now though, he was seeming more and more cold and distant. The confusion morphed into frustration. It seemed as if Kenma were trying to spite him, trying to prove that he worked harder than Kuroo after his stupid, stupid remark. Kuroo had tried leaving peace offerings in the form of food at Kenma’s office doors, but they were either eaten without a word of acknowledgement or left untouched.

Kuroo was at his wit’s end. He started spending longer and longer at work, taking on extra shifts and overtime just to compensate for the boredom. The Japan Volleyball Association was trying to sign on some new players to do advertisements anyway, so it was nice to see and catch up with his old kouhai. Instead of going home where all he knew awaited him was a few hours of mindless TV and a package of instant ramen noodles, Kuroo had started going out again, staying out later each night. He didn’t realize how much he missed having drinks with Bokuto or dinner with his old friends, usually reminiscing about their high school days and talking about what they were up to now. Kuroo learned that Bokuto and Akaashi were looking to move into a new apartment after Bokuto accidentally blew a fuse in the stove trying to make Akaashi a birthday cake, and Tsukishima and Yamaguchi were finishing up university in Sendai and looking for jobs in Tokyo.

Last night, Kuroo had collapsed into bed from exhaustion after an evening of bar-hopping (he was still in his twenties, he deserved to live a little). Kuroo had wanted to wait for Kenma to return so he could wish him good night, but he was so tired that he decided to rest for a bit (just a moment, he swore) and must have fallen asleep without even changing clothes or turning off the lights. That explained the half-buttoned shirt and single sock that he still wore.

But what it still didn’t explain was Kenma’s whereabouts. He swept the room again, foolishly hoping that maybe Kenma had fallen asleep on the floor or the chair in the corner that was piled with clothes (not an unheard-of occurrence), but the only thing Kuroo noticed was the soft glow of his phone on the nightstand and the two missed notifications.

**_From: Kenma_ ** **_ฅ(=ΦωΦ=)ฅ_ ** **_(sent 11:10pm)_ **

_ have to clear up some sponsor stuff with shouyou i might spend the night _

_ didn’t want to wake you _

Kuroo frowned, shooting back a text of his own.

**_From: Kuro_ ** **_ฅ(^•ㅅ•^)ฅ (sent 6:54am)_ **

_ well good morning to you too _

_ couldn’t you have told me earlier? i wanted to talk… _

He sighed and put the phone down again, roughly running his hand through his hair. He fully didn’t expect Kenma to reply for a good few hours; knowing that he would rather abstain from apple pie for a month than get up before seven. Surprisingly though, his phone dinged a short few minutes later.

**_From: Kenma_ ** **_ฅ(=ΦωΦ=)ฅ_ ** **_(sent 6:59am)_ **

_ talk about what? i’ll be home later tonight can u get dinner pls im exhausted shou woke me up at 6 _

Kuroo blinked.  _ Shou _ ? Was it just Kenma shortening his name to make it easier to type? Or were there deeper implications…? Nope, he wouldn’t let his brain go there. Kenma may have been distant recently, but he would never… right? He mentally slapped himself for even thinking about it.

Kuroo was not a very patient person. He wanted to fix things, to just apologize and get things over with. He was tired of walking on eggshells, tiptoeing around the actual problem. Kuroo would much rather face things head-on instead of playing these long drawn-out mind games. He wore his emotions on his sleeve, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t feel deeply. 

In fact, Kuroo envied Kenma’s ability to stay so calm and collected. No matter what happened, he never seemed to let things affect him, whereas Kuroo could be moved to tears by a sappy movie. Everything that Kuroo felt started as a drop in the middle of an ocean but built up until it was a tsunami wave ready to crash down on the shores, whereas Kenma just seemed to barely ripple before fading out.

Anger boiled over in his gut, spilling up his throat and leaving a hot, bitter taste at the back of his tongue. Would it kill Kenma to even pretend to care? For God’s sake, he spent the night away without even telling him. Obviously Kuroo didn’t own his boyfriend, Kenma was allowed to do whatever he wanted, but he didn’t seem to understand that Kuroo’s feelings for him were so vast and immense that he felt like he could drown in them. And Kuroo was so  _ scared _ . Scared of losing Kenma, who wasn’t just his boyfriend but his best friend for his entire life. It scared him that Kenma was drifting away, that he was able to brush off the weird tension between them like it was nothing more than a speck of dust on his keyboard. 

Standing on one side of a rift with Kenma on the other, Kuroo could only watch as the river between them began to erode the rock away.

**Oh, all my emotions**

**Feel like explosions when you are around**

**And I've found a way to kill the sounds**

_ “We are the blood.” Yaku receives a spike smoothly, sending it in a lofty arc towards the net. He aims it as close as he can to the front centre of the court, where Kenma stands poised. _

_ “That flows in the veins.” Kenma raises his arms into position, assessing the situation in a split second. Two blockers on the left, one on the right, and the annoyingly good libero poised and ready near the back right corner. He allows himself a small smile, and sets the ball. _

_ “So that the brain can function properly.” Kuroo grins widely at the perfect centre attack, bending his knees to jump as Kenma moves out of the way. The volleyball hits his hand with a satisfying smack, then the ground on the other side of the net with an even more satisfying thud. _

_ There is a beat of silence, then a deafening roar as Nekoma takes the match point.  _

_ Yamamoto yells hoarsely and pumps his fist in victory, Lev turns around to congratulate Yaku enthusiastically, and Kai heartily slaps Inouka’s back. Kenma’s smile softens as he looks around him at this team that has supported and welcomed him, the first group of people that he’s really felt comfortable with. He looks down at his hands and slowly curls in his fingers, trying to hold onto this feeling.  _

_ “Kenma!” Kuroo stands with his arm raised, beckoning the setter over. Kenma hesitates. The game was quite tiring, his legs itch to retreat to the changeroom and not stay out in the gym. Seeing Kenma’s reluctance, Kuroo crosses the distance between them instead, loping to him in easy strides.  _

_ Kuroo, still riding off the high of the win, impulsively wrapped his arms around Kenma and pulled him into an all-encompassing hug. Kenma stiffened, all his muscles tensing at the sudden feeling. Alarm bells were ringing in his head and his chest somehow felt like it was collapsing and exploding at the same time. His stomach exploded in butterflies and he suddenly couldn’t breathe, even though he was panting for breath mere moments ago. Kenma’s entire brain went haywire, mind blanking out and just becoming overwhelmed and swallowed by this new feeling, by Kuroo. _

_ “You played well today,” Kuroo muttered into Kenma’s hair. With that simple statement, Kenma relaxed, coming to appreciate the warmth of Kuroo’s embrace. He smelled like sweat and vaguely of deodorant, not necessarily a pleasant combination, but at least it was a familiar smell.  _

_ “Thank you,” Kenma murmured back into the fabric of Kuroo’s jersey just beneath his collarbones. He gently disentangled himself, noticing that the rest of the team had begun looking over, distracted from their celebrations. “I’m going to head to the changeroom.” _

_ Kenma changes out of his volleyball uniform and back into his school uniform, but every brush of skin makes him shiver with the ghostly pressure. How is it that he can make his way through an entire volleyball game without breaking a sweat but a single hug from Kuroo sends his head spinning and knees quaking? Kenma prided himself on his ability to think through things logically and repress or at the very least hide his emotions. But something about Kuroo makes his heart pound and feel like it’s about to explode out of his chest.  _

_ These new feelings are loud and sudden and make Kenma’s head hurt. He hated feeling this affected by others and not having his own body be under his control, but a small soothing voice in his head reminds him that this is Kuroo Tetsurou, this is his Kuro. This is the same dork who memorized the periodic table for fun and once kidnapped a cat from a back alley and snuck him into his bedroom for a week because “it looked sad”. Just thinking about the stupid smirk on his face when he pulls off a great block or the excited puppy look when he sees his favourite food makes a strange warmth bloom in Kenma’s chest. _

_ “Kenma, are you okay? We’re about to leave soon.” Kuroo stood all captain-like by the door, duffel bag slung casually on his back. The sight makes Kenma’s breath hitch again. _

_ Kenma was the furthest thing from okay. A dreaded suspicion creeps up on him. “I’m fine, I’ll be right there.” _

_ Kenma thinks that he might just be in love with his best friend.  _

_ He’s not sure exactly when or how it happened, but maybe it’s been there all along and the two of them have just been too oblivious to notice it. The thought fills his head, and he’s so preoccupied that he doesn’t even notice his feet carrying him to the gym doors where Kuroo stands, occasionally looking over oddly at him. _

_ Each glance sets off another round of fireworks in his chest, but Kenma can’t show it. He can’t let Kuroo know, he can’t show how vulnerable he is, how weak he is. Kenma wants to hide but he’s surrounded by his team, trapped, so he does the next best thing. He snaps his noise-canceling headphones securely over his ears and blasts music to drown out the sounds. _

**Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa**

**I said no, I said no**

**Listen close, it's a no**

**The wind is a-pounding on my back**

**And I found hope in a heart attack**

Kenma sighs. It’s been a long day. Meetings to attend, documents to approve, contracts to sign, and rounding off with even more meetings. Shouyou was a ball of endless energy as usual, legs bouncing under the table the entire time, only interjecting to say things like, “That’s so cool!” or, “Kenma I’m going to have your logo on my jersey!” (Kenma swore that every sentence that he spoke ended with an exclamation mark). 

All he wanted to do was go home, eat dinner, put on some mindless show, and spend time with Kuroo. It’s been ages since the last time they just got to hang out or go on a date, and Kenma misses him. Even so, he knows that it’s partially his fault. Kenma had been avoiding him since he came home from his business trip; sleeping in later than he usually did, purposely scheduling his meetings to the evenings, and taking dinner in his office instead of in the kitchen. He couldn’t help it, every time he looked at Kuroo he felt this shifting, squeezing feeling in his stomach and heard the mocking words echoing in his head. It was in his nature to hold grudges instead of forgiving easily, but he  _ wanted _ to forgive Kuroo and just get everything back to the way they used to be. Maybe today was the day.

Kuroo paced the living room floor. It’s been a long wait. Of course today of all days was his day off, so he spent the entire day anxiously cleaning and rearranging things. He tried to watch a movie but realized about an hour of the way in that he was so distracted checking for notifications from his phone every few minutes that he hadn’t absorbed any of the plot at all. There weren’t any texts back from Kenma, even after several from Kuroo himself, and he missed his boyfriend.

Kuroo was restless by nature, he wanted to  _ do,  _ to  _ act _ . He also had zero impulse control, which is why when he cracked open a bottle of wine for them to share he found himself having a few sips, then a few more, then a glass, then two… hence the situation he was in now, walking circles around the small living room with a spread of Kenma’s favourite foods on the kitchen table. He heard their apartment door unlock and the quiet rustling of a jacket being taken off. “Kuro?” His ears perked up like a cat’s. Kenma, it was his Kenma. 

Kuroo pauses his pacing, instead padding over to the hallway where the living room meets the front door. Maybe it’s the alcohol addling his brain or the sheer need to be with Kenma again, but Kuroo finds himself pressing forward, catching Kenma off guard by sliding his arm around his waist and using his other hand to tilt his head up. Kuroo slotted their lips together, sighing in warm relief. 

Kenma let out a soft noise of surprise. He was suddenly being kissed by Kuroo, who tasted strongly of wine and vaguely of something sweeter. His first reaction was to wrap his arms around Kuroo’s neck to stabilize himself, which only seemed to encourage him. Kuroo bit and sucked at his bottom lip, pulling away slightly, and only then did Kenma realize that he was speaking.

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo murmured against Kenma’s lips over and over again, pressing the apologies into him with every fingertip grazing up his back. The kisses were fast and heavy, almost bruisingly so. Kenma kissed back almost instinctively, but as the minutes passed he felt his throat constrict and his chest clench. 

“Kuro, stop,” Kenma said breathlessly when Kuroo briefly paused to pepper kisses on the corner of his mouth and his deliciously sharp jawline. He wasn’t sure if Kuroo didn’t hear him because he was too preoccupied or chose not to answer, because he only dipped lower, using the hand that was cradling the side of his face to push Kenma’s chin further up. 

Kuroo pressed a kiss just under his jaw, sucking a little to leave a pleasing red mark. He moved lower again, this time sucking a spot onto the side of Kenma’s neck, biting down lightly on the skin between his teeth. He could feel the racing of Kenma’s pulse and the bob of his throat as he gasped down air, breath hitching in pleasure. Daring to be bolder, he slipped his hands beneath the hoodie Kenma was wearing to press skin to skin while he bit another deep bruise over his collarbone.

“Kuro, no, I have to show my face on camera tomorrow and you know that I hate turtlenecks,” Kenma panted, feeling jittery and uncomfortable. This wasn’t the furthest they had gone by far, but the mix of shock and still-palpable tension made him want to stop.

“Okay, I won’t leave marks where people can see then,” Kuroo compromised, moving to pull off his sweater. “Come on Kenma, please.”

“Tetsurou.” Kenma hated how high-pitched and whiny his voice sounded. He grabbed Kuroo’s shoulders in preparation to push him off, but a lick just beneath the dip of his throat made him shudder and gasp out a choked-off moan.

Kuroo heard Kenma whining out his name and holding onto his shoulders for support. Blood surging with adrenaline, he tightened his grip around Kenma. He had forgotten how good Kenma tasted, how soft his skin was. He ran his nose up the side of his throat, nudging his Adam’s apple and sucking on his pulse point. It was so good, so heady, soー

“Kuroo, stop, no, get the fuck away from me!” Kenma violently shoved him away, shivering and retreating several steps away. His hair was disheveled and his pupils were blown wide, but not from lust. Was he… scared? Of Kuroo? 

Kuroo swallowed and took a few more steps back, until the two of them were far enough that they couldn’t touch even if they both reached out their arms. His head still buzzed pleasantly from the wine and the aftershocks, but the realization and guilt soon came crashing in. “Kenma, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking straight.” He reached out a hand, but clenched it into a fist and quickly drew it back again. “I’m so sorry, Kenmaー”

Kenma turned around and walked right through the apartment door again.

**Baby, I am a wreck when I'm without you**

**I need you here to stay**

_ Kenma promised himself that he wouldn’t cry. He was seventeen years old for god’s sake, what kind of loser still cried at that age? He dug his nails into his palm and bit the insides of his cheek, but didn’t let a single tear fall as his best friend walked across the stage and graduated. _

_ It was a beautiful day, really. Perfect weather for an outdoor ceremony. The sun was shining, and the breeze was just strong enough to ruffle the tassels on the caps of the Nekoma graduates. _

_ “You… tamed your hair today.” Kenma tilted his head at the incredibly unfamiliar sight of Kuroo without half his hair sticking out randomly and the other half messily swooping over his forehead. _

_ “Yeah, my mom made me. Graduation and all.” Kuroo self-consciously reached up and touched the gelled down mess. “Why, does it look bad?” _

_ “No, just… different, I guess?” Kenma meant what he said, but he also didn’t quite like the weird twisting feeling in his gut. He hadn’t so much accepted as resigned to the fact that he loved Kuroo, but he would still never tell him that he missed seeing Kuroo’s bedhead of all things. He didn’t need the ego boost. _

_ “Well… maybe things are changing? I mean shit, Kenma, I’m a real adult now. I have my diploma and everything.” He chuckled, but it didn’t come out as lighthearted.  _

_ “Kuro…” Kenma couldn’t look at him, couldn’t look up beyond the patch of dirt between his beat-up white sneakers. “I’m going to miss you.” It came out quickly, like an exhale that happened to contain syllables in it rather than an actual sentence.  _

_ Thankfully, Kuroo seemed to understand, or maybe he didn’t even need the words themselves to know how Kenma was feeling. “I’ll miss you too Kenma.” His voice was soft, meant for only Kenma’s ears to hear. _

_ Kenma finally looked up, golden eyes locking into brown ones. Quietly, so quietly that he wasn’t sure if he even said the words or if he just thought them and moved his lips, he spoke. “Don’t go, Kuro. I need you here. What am I going to do without you?” _

_ “You’ll be just fine, you’re so strong Kenma, you don’t need me. Hell, I probably need you more than you need me.” Kuroo bit his lip. “But, uh, even when I’m not really here, I’ll still be here, yeah? Like uh, quantum particles. They can exist in two places at the same time even though they’re really just one thing, just in two states. It’s like that. You’re my other state.” Kuroo paused, embarrassed at having gone into a tangent about quantum particles of all things, but seeing Kenma still gazing at him softly, he drew in a breath, preparing himself to continue, but Kenma beat him to it. _

_ “So you’ll still be here?” _

_ Kuroo smiled. “Always, Kenma, always.” _

**Darling, when I'm fast asleep**

**I've seen this person watching me**

**Saying, "Is it worth it? Is it worth it? Tell me, is it worth it?"**

Kenma’s not sure if he’s dreaming or not. He’s in this wonderful floaty place between sleep and wakefulness when he hears Kuroo’s voice coaxing him to wake up, saying that he was sorry ーwhat for?ー and that he missed him ーbut how, when Kenma was right there? He could almost see Kuroo in front of him, dressed in the soft ratty t-shirt and sweatpants he wore to bed. “Kuro, go back to sleep,” he mumbles, burying his head into the pillow. But the Kuroo in his mind’s eye just keeps speaking in this tinny, distorted voice, the words fading in and out of clarity.

“Just reply to my call please, Kenma, let me know you’reー”  _ Beep. The voicemail inbox you are trying to reach is full. Please try again later. _

Kenma groaned, and sat up. Shit. 

Kenma was getting tired of hotel beds. They were stiff and smelled weirdly sterile and were always made with the ends of the sheets tucked in so tightly to the corners of the mattress that sometimes Kenma gave up on trying to untuck them and just curled up on top of them instead. 

He missed his own bed, the familiar dark red comforter and half a dozen plump pillows, the smell of Kuroo’s shampoo and clean soft laundry detergent. But at the same time, the thought alone made his entire body stiffen and stomach lurch. So he sat awake on the uncomfortable hotel bed, and dealt with the unreasonably high prices (he could afford it anyway), and let himself hide from the problems for just a little while longer.

Finally, he reaches to the nightstand where his phone is charging and taps on the screen to light it up. Eight missed calls since he checked last night. He’d been putting off listening to his voicemails but now that the inbox was completely full he may as well rip off the bandage. He draws in a deep breath and presses play.

_ Sunday, 11:19pm. Beep.  _ “Hey, Kenma. It’s Kuroo? Uh, I made dinner but it’s kind of late now and I might head to bed but it’s in the fridge if you want it. I’m sorry.”  _ Beep. Message deleted. _

_ Monday, 9:08am.  _ “Hey, it’s me again. Call me back when you can? If you’re at Hinata’s it’s fine, just let me know? Okay. Um. Bye, I guess.”  _ Beep. Message deleted. _

_ Monday, 10:17am.  _ “Kenma!! Kuroo-san called this morning and I didn’t even know he had my number but he was looking for you? I told him that you had crashed on my couch Saturday night after all the meetings about the sponsorship and stuff but I didn’t know where you were now. Hope everything is alright!”  _ Beep. Message deleted. _

_ Monday, 3:52pm.  _ “Kozume-san, we’ve successfully rescheduled your meetings. Enjoy your vacation.”  _ Beep. Message deleted. _

_ Tuesday, 8:35am.  _ “Hey, hey, hey! Kuroo is miserable and keeps texting me to complain so stop making my best friendー”  _ A hissed shushing noise, a scuffle, and a few low, quiet whispers that the phone doesn’t quite pick up.  _ “I mean, Kuroo is really concerned about you Kenma, could you give him a call back so he’ll get off my back?”  _ A pause.  _ “Ah dammit, Akaashi is giving me a bad look, talk to you later!”  _ Beep. Message deleted. _

_ Tuesday, 8:59am.  _ “Hi Kenma, it’s Akaashi. Sorry about earlier, Bokuto tends to speak his mind. Just know that Kuroo and your friends are worried about you. Kuroo didn’t make a big fuss about it because he knew you would hate that, but… if you can, at least get in touch with one of us. Anyone.”  _ A sigh _ . “Before the pining drives him crazy.”  _ Beep. Message deleted. _

_ Tuesday, 10:13pm. _ “Bo said he called earlier, I’m sure that turned out great, huh. Sorry if he said anything embarrassing. Please let me know you’re okay.”  _ Beep. Message deleted. _

_ Tuesday, 10:44pm.  _ “I’m going to bed now, but call me anytime. I have my ringer on.”  _ Beep. Message deleted. _

_ Tuesday, 11:29pm.  _ “I lied, I couldn’t sleep. Do you think it’d be a bad idea to have some wine?”  _ Shuffling, pouring.  _ “Well, guess you were my impulse control and now there’s nobody to stop me.”  _ Beep. Message deleted. _

_ Today, 12:23am.  _ “It was a bad idea.”  _ Beep. Message deleted. _

_ Today, 1:14am.  _ “Why am I still calling you? I know you won’t pick up, but I keep holding on to hope that maybe this is the time that it’ll go through. Or maybe I just like hearing the five-second clip of your voice telling me I’ve reached the voicemail box again. Wow, I’m way too pathetic.”  _ Beep. Message deleted. _

_ Today, 2:45am.  _ “Hi”  _ Giggling and vague clinking sounds.  _ “I think I’m properly drunk now.”  _ Beep. Message deleted. _

_ Today, 3:36am.  _ “G'night, Kenma.”  _ Audibly slurring.  _ “I miss you.”  _ Beep. Message deleted. _

_ Today, 8:20am.  _ “Shit, Kenma, last night wasn’t supposed to happen. I can’t remember what I said but it was probably really embarrassing, I’m sorry. I do miss you though. Just reply to my call, pleaseー”  _ Beep. Message deleted. _

_ You have reached the end of your voicemail.  _

**Because there is something, and there is nothing**

**There is nothing in between**

_ Kuroo loves, or he hates. The world to him was simple; black and white, good and bad. Maybe it was a simplistic worldview, but it had worked for him in his eighteen years of existence so far. He had always been able to think through whatever he needed to by sorting things into these categories, into these loves and hates. He hates messiness, dog-eared pages in books, and the smell of cut grass. He loves volleyball, chemistry, and the way cats curled up to sleep with their paws tucked into their sides.  _

_ He’d always just known whether he liked or didn’t like things, like a compass always knew which direction was north. From the moment he met Kenma, he knew that Kenma was in the first category.  _

_ Sitting on the floor of his bedroom, back leaning against the worn bed frame and books spread in front of him, Kuroo really wished he could care less. Stupid feelings, not just letting him do things halfway either, he had to dedicate himself to either worshipping or despising things. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking about whether Kenma had gotten around to re-dyeing his hair like he had been meaning to for the past few months, or whether he had heard of the new video game coming out from his favourite company (of course he had, who was Kuroo kidding). He was a goddamned university student now, he should be studying or partying or hooking up with the girls in the next building or something, not thinking about his childhood friend who probably wasn’t missing him at all. _

_ Besides, it wasn’t like Kuroo couldn’t get in contact with him. He had Kenma’s number saved in his phone (he says as if he hasn’t spent at least one night a week drunk off cheap liquor and staring longingly at his phone, finger hovering over the call button) but he could never bring himself to actually just take the jump and call him. Their friendship was built on proximity if anythingー being neighbours and family friends and going to the same school for their entire livesー and now that Kenma wasn’t just a walk away, Kuroo felt like he was almost intruding on his privacy to call him. _

_ It was a ridiculous thought, he knew, even Bokuto had texted Kenma since they had both left for university. Probably just a random link to a YouTube video and an obligatory “lol” back from Kenma, but it was still more than Kuroo had done. Which was stupid. Right? It was the first truly extended period of time that Kuroo hadn’t spent with Kenma (vacations aside, and even those either only lasted for a few weeks or their families went on together), and Kuroo was itching to talk to him again. He had typed out so many texts, from a simple “hi how’s it going” to “i saw this cat in the park yesterday and it made me think of you” to paragraph long confessions of his feelings. But he always ended up deleting them, waiting for Kenma to reach out first. His inbox remained empty. _

_ Thankfully, the holidays were coming up around the corner. His mother had been calling and texting him nonstop, bugging him to come home for the holidays and complaining that he gets one taste of independence and completely forgets his family (which wasn’t true at all, Kuroo had just been swamped in homework and trying to figure out how to get the goddamn laundry machine to work). Still, he had made plans a month or so ago to visit again. And this time, he would do it, he promised himself. He would finally confess to Kenma. _

_ “You sure you didn’t forget anything, bro?” Bokuto scratched his head, absentmindedly slumping down one of his grey-black hair spikes.  _

_ Kuroo shrugged and hoisted up his single backpack, the only piece of luggage he was bringing back for the two week break. “Yeah, I still have a bunch of clothes at home so all I really need is my laptop and some textbooks. Plus I doubt I’ll be wearing anything other than pyjamas. You should be the one worrying about forgetting things anyways, aren’t you heading to Akaashi’s?” _

_ Bokuto’s eyes lit up at his boyfriend’s name. “Yep, his family invited me over! I’ll probably spend a few days at home too though.” _

_ Kuroo smiled, happy that his best friend’s relationship was going well. A small pang of jealousy plucked at his heart, but he scolded himself and pushed it down. Bokuto deserved it, after all. _

_ After parting ways with a hug that was so tight that Kuroo could feel his shoulder blades press together, the two boys each went on their respective trains and headed home. Kuroo spent the hour and a half reading an ebook on his phone and trying to contain the flutter in his chest as he saw the landscape become more familiar through the train windows.  _

_ Arriving home felt like a dream. He greeted his mother with a hug, surrounded by the familiar scent of home. He was fussed over, his hair was ruffled, and food was scooped onto his plate with instructions to eat after being scolded for being too skinny. It was nice being taken care of again, a welcome break from the packs of instant ramen and convenience store meals. Still, he felt this restlessness, a feeling of something missing. He didn’t realize what it was until the doorbell rang as he was drying dishes and placing them back into cupboards. _

_ “I’ll get it,” Kuroo yelled over his shoulder to his mother, who was still in the dining room. Hastily drying off his hands on the front of his sweater, he opened the door to findー _

_ “Hey, Kuro.” _

_ “Kenma.” The first thought that came to Kuroo’s mind was that he’d cut his hair. Then, he was reminded of how much he missed him and how nice it was to see Kenma on his doorstep like they were kids again and, oh. This is what he was missing. _

_ Kenma seemed to take the silence as a need to further explain. “Your mom told me you would be coming home today. I thought you’d text, but…” _

_ Kuroo felt the blush hot on the back of his neck, a poignant mix of shame and embarrassment. “Yeah, uh, I had loads of homework.” The excuse sounded limp and stupid to even his own ears, but Kenma just raised his eyebrow and twisted his lips. _

_ “Are you going to invite me in?” _

_ “Shit, yeah of course, come in. We just finished dinnerー” _

_ “I already ate. Can I talk to you?” _

_ Talk to him? What about? Kuroo’s curiosity burned, but he resisted asking and just nodded mutely, gesturing vaguely upstairs. Kenma already knew the way to his room, and Kuroo followed closely behind, taking the time to notice that Kenma was taller, that he walked with more confidence than before. When they got to his bedroom, he took a moment to appreciate the fact that it still seemed the exact same as it did when he left: a stack of books on the too-small desk, a pillow crumpled in the corner of his bed, and his closet stuffed with sweatpants and mismatched socks.  _

_ Kenma sat down on the bed and tucked his hands under his thighs, which was something Kuroo knew he only did when he was stressed. He seemed reluctant to speak, so Kuroo swallowed and opened his mouth. This was what he’d been waiting for, after all. “I have something to tell you.”  _

_ “That’s my line.” Kenma replied with a suppressed smile. _

_ “Too bad then,” Kuroo replied, but relented when Kenma gave a small roll of the eyes. “Oh whatever.” He chewed at the inside of his lip. “We can uh, say it at the same time I guess?” _

_ Kenma hesitated, then nodded, holding up three fingers. “Three, two, oー” _

_ “Kenma, I think that I really like you; I don’t exactly know how or when I realized but I think that I do? No, I’m sure that I do. Maybe it was when I saw a cat on the street and my first thought was that I should take a picture to show you or maybe it was our last volleyball game when we won and you returned my hug or maybe even earlier than that. Maybe I fell in love with you the moment I met you all those years ago. Fuck, maybe I’ve been in love with you this whole time.”  _

_ Kuroo ran a hand through his hair, making it even messier than it already was. “My point is… I don’t know. I guess all I mean to say is that I really, really like you, Kenma. And I hope you feel the same.” Done with his (frankly much too long and much too incoherent and much too embarrassing) spiel, he looked back up for Kenma’s reaction.  _

_ “What the fuck Kuro, I wasn’t done counting.” _

_ Kuroo paused in shocked disbelief, mouth open but no words coming out. “I just confessed to you, and that’s what you’re most worried about?” _

_ “That and… the fact that you stole my line again.” _

_ Kuroo could feel the blood rushing in his veins, heart pounding so loud that he swore it was reverberating through his skull. “You’re not joking, right? This isn’t some prank, or some dream?” _

_ Kenma didn’t answer his question per se, but instead just leaned over and brushed a kiss over Kuroo’s lips. It was the first time he had willingly initiated physical contact, and Kuroo’s brain turned into malfunctioning mush. Balancing chemical equations and calculating atmospheric drag in his head was no problem, but Kenma kissing him made everything else fritz out to the point where he could barely process the soft words coming out of Kenma’s mouth, still pressed against his own. _

_ “I love you, Kuro.” _

_ “I love you too. God, I love you, I love you, I love you.” _

**And in my eyes, there is a tiny dancer**

**Watching over me, he's singing**

**"She's a, she's a lady, and I am just a boy."**

**He's singing, "She's a, she's a lady, and I am just a line without a hook"**

Kuroo was coming to the realization that he hated sleeping alone. He missed the slight warmth of another body in the same bed, the dip in the mattress and shuffling of the sheets. He missed the dent in the pillows and the knowledge that the person he loved was right there, within the reach of an arm and the tug of a blanket. He missed the open vulnerability in Kenma’s face, the relaxation that he only found when he was sleeping. Yeah, Kuroo definitely didn’t like sleeping alone.

He didn’t like being in the apartment alone either; when every noise seemed to be too loud without the background buzz of some video game soundtrack or shuffling of socks on hardwood floors. As much as he flaunted and bragged, Kuroo was a little bit of a scaredy cat at heart, which is why he nearly had a heart attack when he heard the metallic click of a key in a lock and the quiet creak of the front door opening.

Kuroo scrambled to his feet, seeing Kenma slinking into the living room like a cat that had run away from home and returned in shame. “Kenma, where the hell were you?”

“I’m just here to grab some clothes and stuff, I’ll be going soon.” He pointedly didn’t look Kuroo in the eyes, his gaze instead flickering to the door on the other side of the room that led to their bedroom.

“Clothes? What? Kenma, do you know how out of my mind worried I’ve been? I called Bokuto, Hinata, even goddamned Lev to see if they knew where you were! It’s been three days, Kenma, I know you needed some space and I’m sorry, god, I’m so sorry, but did you not have the decency to at least pick up your phone?”

Kenma pressed his lips together and thought back to the barrage of missed calls and texts that had blown up his phone until he’d given up and just held the power button until it went black. “It died,” he lies, knowing that Kuroo is much too smart to believe such a thing.

Predictably, Kuroo doesn’t give it a chance. “And you didn’t have a charger on you? Scratch that, of course you didn’t, because you left yours here when you were in such a hurry to leave. But you couldn’t buy one?”

“I don’t want to talk about it Kuro, please, can we just pretend nothing happened? I just want to get my things and leave.”

“For how long? How long are you going to keep running, and pushing me away, and not giving me a chance to explain myself because you’re too caught up in your own world to realize that maybe someone else cares about you too? Why can’t you understand that you’re important to me?”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it, Kuro! I’m sorry, but I just can’t, it’s too complicated.”

“Everything is too complicated for you to discuss. Have you ever, just once in your life, chosen to talk something out? I’m always the one chasing after you, but you can’t even spare me a glance over your shoulder or a conversation because you’re too scared of what, vulnerability? You can’t deal with the fact that you are worth something to me? Please, talk to me.”

Kenma flinched, but his eyes hardened and his tone was mocking. “Grow up, Kuroo. When are you going to realize we’re not kids anymore? Not everything can be solved with an ‘I’m sorry’ and a kiss to make the boo-boo better.”

“We’re not kids anymore? You’re sure acting like it. Insulting me when I’m just trying to talk to you? It’s so exhausting trying to figure out what you mean and overanalyzing every tiny thing you do because you can’t put your thoughts into words and just tell me how you feel. And I can’t even ask, because you’d just shy away and who knows if I would ever be able to speak to you again.”

“I’m sorry I’m such a burden then, I’m sorry I’m so exhausting to deal with and I can’t be perfect. Is that what you want? For me to get on my knees and pray for your forgiveness?”

“What? An empty apology? No. I want you to stay here, to stay with me, to not turn around and leave out the door again. I want you to stop being so distant, to stop sealing yourself away anytime you feel vaguely threatened. Haven’t I earned your trust?”

“I can’t! I did trust you Kuroo, and look where that ended up. I can’t just talk about things the way you do, I can’t just stop building walls. Trust is something you have to maintain, not just expect.”

They were screaming by now, voices rising and pulling out nauseating but oddly reminiscent memories that made Kuroo’s head spin.

Kenma continued. “I’m scared, I’m scared, I’m scared of you! And of us! And what this whole thing is anyway, and what if I mess this up and we can’t just go back to how things were because everything is ruined beyond repair! You’re so perfect and popular and so  _ you,  _ and I’m just some broken collection of pieces. But you still chose me. And I need you to need me. You’re my best friend, and I need you to be my best friend first.”

The silence was deafening. Kuroo’s throat was so tight that it felt like it was collapsing in on itself, as if the carefully built up support structures were crumbling one by one and taking his body down with it. His blood chilled and ran hot at the same time, but his face was unfeeling, unable to understand. Kenma’s words echoed in his head, drowning out everything else, a sea of white noise and static that swallowed up even the words that he croaked out himself. 

“Well then, maybe we should break up.”

Kenma paused, breathed, then bit the inside of his lip hard. “Yeah, maybe we should.”

Invisible weights pulled down on each of Kuroo’s fingers, quicksand forming around his feet and making the floor shift beneath his feet, everything sinking and falling and trapping him in his own body, unable to move or blink or even breathe. His mind was awash with overwhelming emptiness, but his heartbeat was fast enough that it eventually dragged his sluggish brain behind it. Kuroo forced himself to raise his arm, his thoughts feeling like they were travelling through honey but not half as sweet. 

“Kenma,” he spoke softly, when his voice finally managed to catch up to his mind.

But he was already gone.

**Baby, I am a wreck when I'm without you**

**I need you here to stay**

Kenma couldn’t think. He was supposedly the brains, the strategic and quick-witted one, so why couldn’t he form a goddamn thought? He could feel his feet falling on the tile floor of the hotel bathroom but only a tingling in the rest of his body; the stinging tingling of a limb gone numb and not the light brush of oversized clothing on skin. 

He can’t remember how he made his way to the hotel room, or how he ended up slumped in the bathroom, back against the sink and countertop poking uncomfortably into his spine. His Switch is in his hands, fingers absentmindedly drifting to pick out a comfort game, something to occupy the blizzard that is his mind. The familiar music starts playing out of the tinny speakers, bringing back childhood memories of staying up peeking out of windows, unintentional sleepovers, and a certain messy-haired boy... Fuck.

What has he done? The words he had so cruelly spit out at Kuroo swirled around in his mind, causing his grip to loosen and the gaming console to slip from his hands. Did he actually just break up with his best friend and supposed love of his life? It was a rash, heat of the moment decision, right? He could still take it back if he wanted to… apologize and start again… 

He thought there would be some kind of warning before this point, some kind of sign. A red flag, or a flare gun, or a line drawn in the sand. In retrospect though, maybe the entirety of the past several months had been a long, drawn out warning; the quiet wail of a faraway siren rather than the bang of a firework explosion.

Kenma loved Kuroo. That was a fact. He trusted him, respected him, and truly enjoyed spending time with him. But still, thinking about going back to that apartment and the person inside made his breath catch. Why was he like this? So broken that he had pushed away the only person that had stuck by him for so long. Nothing more than a malfunctioning part that could only feel numb after breaking off the most long-lasting relationship of his life. He knew that he was his own person, in fact often preferred being alone over the company of others, but it didn’t stop him from  _ wanting _ to be loved, just in the way that  _ he _ wanted to be loved.

Like a puppet cut from its strings, Kenma similarly slid to the floor until his cheek was pressed to the cold, cold tile.

**I broke all my bones that day I found you**

**Crying at the lake**

Everything was hot. The blood pumping through Kuroo’s body from his fast-beating heart, the tears that slid down his face, the blanket he had buried himself under, the air coming out of his overheating laptop propped up on a pillow beside him, and most of all the burning guilt in his chest. 

His vision blurred, obfuscated by the tears clinging to his lower lashes that he had gotten so accustomed to that he couldn’t even be bothered to wipe them away anymore. Waves of regret came and went, and Kuroo let the droning voice of the characters of whatever show he was half heartedly watching carry his thoughts and add to the boiling, whirling mess that was his mind, and closed his eyes.

Kuroo must have fallen asleep, because he found himself gasping for air with an apology on his lips, his legs tangled in the sheets. Today, it seemed, was a bad day. Normally he was functional at least, if not completely okay. It was starting to teeter on the cusp of acceptable time to mope after a breakup though; with Bokuto making not-so-subtle hints that Kuroo should join him for a workout or go out for drinks, all of which he turned down politely to return home and collapse into bed.

A few weeks ago, Kenma had packed his things and moved out while Kuroo was at work, staying with Shouyou for a while before finding another apartment. The things they had owned together for so long were decided with a coin toss or a shrug and an offhanded offer. 

Kuroo still wasn’t quite used to it; only sleeping on one side of the bed and not being able to break his habit of getting up quietly and dressing in the dark to avoid waking up someone that wasn’t there. He still found himself making enough coffee for two, but being unable to stand the sight of the coffee pot still half full, he usually ended up drinking it all anyway and dealing with the caffeine crash later in the day. 

He felt the need to keep moving, to keep ahead of his racing thoughts. Still, on days like these where he just felt like he was drowning in his own emotions, he couldn’t help but think about what had gone wrong. Was it his fault? Did he push too hard, ask for too much? 

Or maybe… maybe it was never meant to work out. Maybe they were twin flames that couldn’t help but burn each other out. Maybe after all that time, after the years of giving and taking and pushing and pulling, they just weren’t meant to be after all.

And somehow the realization of that hurt most of all.

**Was it something I said to make you feel like you're a burden, oh**

**And if I could take it all back**

**I swear that I would pull you from the tide**

Kuroo laughed, stepping into the busy cafe behind a woman with sparkling eyes and an equally bright smile. 

“What a gentleman,” she teased, “and they say chivalry is dead.”

“First impressions are important,” Kuroo flirted right back. “I would pull out your chair, but there are only booths.”

The parlour cafe was pleasantly crowded, with a milling of people but still several empty tables to choose from. Soft music played in the background, probably some indie band. The air smelled of coffee and cinnamon, and the colour scheme seemed to follow that, with toffee-coloured chairs and cream-coloured tables.

“This place looks good enough to eat,” she remarked, impressed.

“Apparently they also have the best pastries in the entire city, so enjoy it.”

The two of them slid into a booth, placing an order with the waitress who came by. “I’ll have a black coffee and cannoli please,” Kuroo said, “and you?”

“Black coffee as well and… the apple pie looks good.”

“Oh yeah, Kenma loves the apple pie here.”

“Kenma?” She tilted her head.

“Yeah, uh, my best friend Kenma.” Kuroo’s voice softened and he glanced down. “We haven’t been in contact for a while, but he used to really love the apple pie here.”

“It sounds like you guys were close?”

“Close doesn’t begin to cover it.”

“So what happened?”

Kuroo let all the breath drain out of his lungs, then swallowed and breathed in again. “It’s a long story.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading i hope you enjoyed! <3  
> i really do love kuroken, i've just been thinking that their dynamic has so much more platonic potential and needed to get the angst out of my system (i don't know why whenever i write angst it just gets so long...)  
> also i adore this song to death and have been listening and crying to it for months so please go give it a listen if you haven't already !!
> 
> \--
> 
> come talk to me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/c4tboykei)


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